i followed instructions and for the next few minutes, my heart slammed upon the hard wood floor like a fish slapping against the deck of a boat. just one more movement and maybe, i'll jump high enough to clear the boat's edge and i'll be free. my capture will be over. or not.
i make no apologies for the way i was raised, the values i was taught, the endless sunday's i spent in church praying and singing and accepting the proposed succession of life. 'a' would come before 'b' and so on. that's just the way life was intended to travel and i accepted that. i'm sure there are other people that were taught completely different ideals and values, but for the most part, people of my generation believed in marriage, family, working hard, the uselessness of excuses, and sacrifice for those you love. for what's it's worth, this list should be considerably longer, but i find that spouting these strengths around today's generation is moot.
i grew up. i graduated high school, then college. i got a job. i worked hard. i fell in love, i married. i had children. what followed the children part wasn't exactly on my wish list and included lots of bumpy roads, but i managed. but things happened in that order. it was just accepted. i never once thought of putting the cart before the horse. life would be warped at that point and who knows what the next part would be. i couldn't risk that.
i guess all of life is a risk to some extent. but why drown yourself in what you can avoid. i'd rather not work so hard.
the phone call ended abruptly with no resolution, at least none on my end. i do not, and will not, accept happy as the answer to my question. 'happy' is not an acceptable reason for doing anything. now, 'joy' on the other hand, is worth considering, but i see no joy in this. 'happy' is fleeting (as it always is) and once reality pops in for the duration, 'happy' will be put on the back burner and you'll forget what 'happy' felt like.
i, on the other hand, am still in the fish-slapping, heart-slamming conundrum. after all, what do i know? i'm just her mother.